Her expression shifts. One second she looks angry and harassed, the next her chin’s wobbling.
Jesus. What the hell’s up with her?
She looks away, and I watch her face crumble.
No.Inside, my muscles lock up. Something—or someone—happened to her. Even after I sent Sorensen to watch over her during her class. I should’ve gone myself.
“Avery,” I say, leaning forward. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Can we just not?” she asks, her voice cracking. “I need—let go, Shane. Please?”
For a year, all she did was beg me to talk to her and watch me with puppy dog eyes when I wouldn’t. Now when she seems to really need someone to talk to and I’m offering, she won’t. I will never understand Avery Kershaw.
Tears spill over her lashes. I pull her against me before I realize what I’m doing. And she leans in, letting me hug her.
If that asshole Todd Bardoratch made her cry, I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp.
“I need to take a shower,” she mumbles.
“No argument about that. What happened? Overactive perfume sprayer in the quad?” My attempt at levity seems to work.
“Fuck,” she says on an exhale. Then she pulls away and scrubs the heel of her hand over her eyes, smudging her mascara all the more. She’s like a raccoon, except beautiful. “Can we talkafterI take a shower?”
“Yeah, go.”
She taps my fingers, and I realize I’m still holding her arm. Her eyes study my face, and something passes between us that is not anger or hate.
I let go.
Avery turns and hustles down the hall and into the guest bathroom.
Standing in the hallway seems pointless and stalker-ish, so I head to my own room. I sit in my desk chair, facing the open door.
From my position, I hear when she leaves the bathroom and goes into her bedroom. When I decide she’s had enough time to dry off and dress, I start thinking about going in after her. I’m impatient to know what’s going on.
Last night during our discussion of ground rules, I claimed I wouldn’t walk in without knocking, but today I decide that might have been a lie.
My phone rings, and I check it. Ethan again. I swipe red, sending the call to voicemail. I’ll talk to him later.
“Hey,” Avery says.
Glancing up, I find she’s standing in my doorway. Wet strands of silky dark hair spill over the shoulders of her t-shirt. If she’s wearing a bra, it’s not very thick because her nipples are poking against the front of the shirt. She’s got blue yoga pants on that are thin enough for me to bite through.
Jesus Christ.This is not the moment to be focused on her body. But the outfit calls to me like she’s wearing nothing.
“Come in.”
From the doorway, she looks around the room, her eyes pausing on my king-sized bed. I can’t help but wonder what she thinks of it. And whether she’ll spend a night in it sometime.
“I thought you didn’t want me in your room,” she says.
That was another part of our agreement. She wasn’t to come into my room, period. Yesterday I wanted there to be clear boundaries. Today, boundaries aren’t looking so good.
“Get in here,” I say, nodding toward the wooden chest at the foot of my bed.
She comes in and sits cross-legged on the chest, leaning her back against the footboard. With a makeup-free face and dressed in a t-shirt and yoga pants, Avery’s back to looking like the beautiful teenage interloper who makes my cock so hard it’s pure pain not to deal with it.
“What happened today? Who made you cry?”
